Contrasts
by DelightfullyBlue
Summary: A series of monologues about England and America as they try to figure each-other, and themselves, out.  USUK, Drinking-Buddy!France Advice-Giving!Canada. Has humor in it at some points, but I cannot do three genres.  T because England likes to cuss.


**(A/N) This pretty much starts out as a monologue, and then ends in a more _normal-ie_ third-person perspective.**

**I shall be doing more chapters of this, the next one will start with a monologue from America's perspective.**

**This contains USxUK, this chapter makes England seem a little bit angsty, but don't worry, it'll get much better later chapters. I promise!**

**Also contains some France and England brotherly (or drinking friend) friendship.**

**So, please R&R, constructive criticism welcome! :D**

**Flames will be used for Smores WITH CHOCOLATE. HECK YEAH!**

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT own these characters or APH ect ect.**

**(Also, I had a bit of frustrating trouble with the FFN document... thing, so sorry if the spacing is weird, but I couldn't fix it! GRR! :/)**

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><p><strong>Contrasts: The End of Denial<strong>

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><p>To be a nation is a wonderful and awful thing to be.<p>

We are personifications.

(To state the _obvious._)

Our _blood_ is the blood of _every single_ _person_ who wanders in our country,

who is a _part_ of our country.

Who, in turn, becomes a part of _us._

We are... _indecisive._

Being made up of the minds of many, after all,

leads to not knowing exactly _what to do_ if most of those minds cannot agree.

(What the _hell_ do you mean _get on with it?_

I don't know _why_ I even _brought you along_ anyway!)

Do you_ see?_

With all that considered, to _fall in love_ with _another nation_, as a nation _yourself_,

is fraught with... _difficulties._

As a Super Power, and a nation made up of millions,

I very well _never _expected to fall for _anyone._

N-not that I'm even _sure_ that I _have!_

Probably just a small _infatuation _or something of the like.

It's just...

Falling in love... is so...

_Human._

Something so _temporary_, unlike being a nation.

It seems very well to be the _exact opposite_ of what _we are_ really!

Love is a _fickle_ emotion (_hey_, don't give me that look!),

fraught with nights of not knowing _What To Do._

_Night_, after _night_, after _day_, after fucking _hour_, after hellish _minute_ of-

_Longing._ Feeling so. So.

_Vulnerable._

Sickening.

I admit, I hate the feeling.

As if, whenever he is _around_...

It is as if I am under a _fucking microscope!_

As if he can _see_ every move I make.

Then I don't know _what_ the bloody hell to do.

I want to make him look away... Tell him to _bugger off,_ an leave me alone!

While at the_ same time_, I _want_ to be the object of his attention..._forever._

W-which, o-of course, is _preposterous!_

Forever is far too _long_ a time to keep love.

...Of course!

I have seen nations fall in and out of love with each-other for centuries.

I know how this works!

Even if those nations manage to have _mutual _love,

manage to keep that love _safe_ and _cherished_ throughout time...

One of those nations will eventually _fall_ while protecting the other-

or even by just being _taken by another nation!_

Then the nation who is left, stands alone.

Facing the _endlessness_ of time by themselves.

Like the _rest_ of us, except they feel worse.

I've seen them.

Unable to die with their love, but unable to _move on_ for centuries.

Trapped by _human emotions,_

those emotions that are apart from the national consciousness.

That part of every nation that _makes us remember_...

_Why?_

Why _would_ I?

Why, I _don't even know._

I can not begin to even _comprehend _why I would fall for... _Him._

Why would I _waste_ many _perfectly good hours_ per day,

hours better suited for more important things,

thinking about him?

I am a _strong_ nation, I know this from all these centuries I have spent,

_fighting_ and _fighting._

I _need_ no other nation.

_Especially_ not like... _That._

Alliances, trade, and cultural exchange, are _normal_.

Connections that must be made for health, and the happiness, of all concerned.

I trade with _many_ other nations.

_Many_ foreigners visit my shores, this is all well and _normal._

But, then.

There are the things that are _far_ from _normal._

The more... _personal_ things that I have been rarely _effected_ by,

but have seen,

as I watched other nations in the distance.

I have never so wanted to be _near_ someone.

Not _all the time._

I have never _sat awake_ at night, wondering how any other nation is _doing._

Not hoping that they were _alright _anyway.

I have never _lingered in another nation's touch_, wanting to never let go!

It is _demeaning!_

Horrible!

Bloody _embarrassing_, a-and frankly I _hate_ it.

With every _fiber_ of my _being_, I _loathe_ it!

I _wish_ I could hold him close, but not if it_ hurts_.

Why should I _trust_ someone so much,

when I very well_ know _they shall leave me?

_Again!_

Not that he would _have_ me in the first place...

God, he probably wouldn't even_ understand!_

He would give me that _look,_ and either start teasing me-

Or worse, _he would think I was kidding!_

And then what hell would I do?

Keep going as if nothing had happened?

_Could_ I do that? _God,_ I don't even _know!_

I guess I _could_ see why though.

Why he wouldn't want me, that is...

What about _me_ could even hold his _attention?_

I don't suppose I'm even the '_best looker'_ in his eyes!

Why else would he tease me about my _eyebrows?_

Not that _he's_ the best _'looker'_ either!

Too bloody _tall_ is all _he _is!

Even if he has a _charming smile._

And eyes the color of those bloody huge _skies_ of his.

Skies that are almost _always_ that _ridiculous_ _blue._

_Always _trying to be the fucking _hero._

And those fucking _silly glasses_ that make him look _smart._

And that _look_ in his eye, always being so bloody _optimistic_ and _happy._

And-and- fucking _hell__..._

I suppose...

I am probably too far gone,

to just '_get over_' him...

Aren't I?...

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><p>France shook his head at the nation who had drunk himself into a faint,<br>as England snored on the counter top.

He had attempted being quiet the entire evening,  
>listening as England drank himself into a lovesick stupor.<p>

There was only _one conclusion_ he could come to.

The same conclusion he _always _came to when he spent the evening  
>watching lovesick nations drown themselves in sadness.<p>

_L'amour_ could make a man, or ruin him.

_L'amour_ could build bridges, just as fast as it could burn them to ashes.

And finally, _L'amour_ had ways of making people act so different,  
>while at the same time, inexplicably enhancing their '<em>them-ness<em>'.

France had known England had been struck with love for quite a long time now,  
>but he had not been prepared for how intensely <em>afflicted<em> England was.

How was France to know how _far_ England had fallen?

He was the _country of love_, but he was not a _love-detector_.  
>Despite what many seemed to think.<p>

France gave what advice he had to England,  
>but there was truly not much he could do.<p>

Love this _deep_, is not meant to be _tampered_ with.

No matter how much he liked to mess with England... This love of his...  
>was the kind that would benefit everyone,<br>or it would leave London burning, and everyone missing a piece of their hearts  
>that used to be labeled 'England'.<p>

All France could do was smile, pull England's arm over his shoulder  
>and take England back to his own house.<p>

France left his friend England asleep on the couch.

France, feeling slightly charitable, turned off the lights.  
>As he left England's house,<br>he couldn't _help_ but look back for a second.

France smiled, and said  
>"Sleep well, Angleterre. I quite <em>hope<em> that, at the very _least_,  
>you dream of your America."<p> 


End file.
